Page 64 of Deliver us from Evil

I missed out on a lot too. Tolkien. Dickens. Rowling. Harlequin. My men don’t tell me what I can and can’t read. Don’t tell me how I can and can’t dress.

For the first time in my life, I’m free.

Truly free.

Rube turns to face me, arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing a dark, short-sleeved shirt that looks painted on to his beautiful sculpted torso, and a pair of baggy sweatpants.

Those dark clothes, paired with his black eyebrows and black hair, make his green eyes pop.

I’ll never forget the morning I woke up beside him, turned around, and saw his real eyes open for the first time.

I guess just like it’s taken me forever to get used to Cass’s longer hair. It’s not as long as Apollo’s but when he’s in the mood Cass ties it up in a man bun that makes me start panting.

“Enjoy your swim?” Rube asks, but there’s an edge to his voice like he’s already planned how much I’m going to regret stalling.

Apollo sits forward on one of the day beds, an unlit cigarette dangling between his fingers. I don’t let them smoke inside the house, and I guess he hasn’t gotten around to heading outside to have it yet.

He’s wearing three-quarter shorts and a too-big vest that shows most of his ribs and chest through the armholes. Cass’s favorite pastime—besides watching celebrity cooking shows—is to make fun of his style. He doesn’t seem to realize Apollo doesn’t have a style—Apollo wears the clothes that are in his cupboard, usually whatever’s on top of the pile he sees first.

As if thinking his name summons him, Cass steps up behind me, proffering the tray of strawberries as he presses a kiss to my ear.

“Ma’am.”

I wave him away dismissively, but only after I’ve snagged another strawberry off the tray.

“Fine,” I say through a sigh. “Where is he?” I ask, sticking out my hip and trying for all the world to sound like a cocky bitch.

Rube’s head tilts and then he steps to the side, revealing the only non-reclining armchair in this space.

Zachary is perched on the edge of the seat. He’s wearing a Gucci T-shirt that probably cost more than the couch, and a pair of tattered jeans.

He looks the same as he always has.

Weeks after we left Virginia and came to live in Dana Point in this mansion Zachary bought us, the others started transforming. Like butterflies fresh out of their cocoons.

Cass grew out his hair.

Reuben stopped wearing his colored contacts.

Apollo…okay, he hasn’t transformed much. But he does spend a lot less time by himself than he used to. He and Cass go surfing together in the morning where in the past, according to Rube, he’d have gone alone.

But Zach?

Put him in a cable-knit sweater and a pair of loafers, and he’s Brother Rutherford.

Which is one of the reasons why it’s been six months, and Zachary and I still haven’t spoken more than two words to each other.

Becausehe hasn’t changed.

Not on the outside.

Not on the inside.

“I did enjoy my swim, thank you for asking,” I tell Rube, now blatantly ignoring Zachary. “In fact, I think I’ll go have a lie-down. All that splashing around tired me out.”

I turn my back, slip past Cass, and head for the master bedroom.

“Trinity.” Zach’s voice stops me in my tracks. And fuck, I hate that he still has that kind of power over me. “Please.”

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